


Battle scars

by NightsMistress



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, fusion with FFVII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-28 06:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5080663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/pseuds/NightsMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being the Commander and being the lover of someone in a quasi-terrorist organization can often put Squall into conflict. Fortunately, Rinoa is the kind of lateral thinker he needs to cut through the Gordian knot of his own neuroses, and it helps that she's a sorceress as well. After all, if a monster is tough enough to challenge <i>Cloud Strife</i>, then Squall needs all the backup he can get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starrie_Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrie_Wolf/gifts).



It was four years after the events of the Second Sorceress War and business for SeeD was booming. Squall suspected he should really thank Esthar for that; it had been exceedingly generous in lending aid to rebuild nations affected by Sorceress Ultimecia. If eyebrows were raised about Esthar offering aid to Galbadia, the country that had initially started the conflict, no one raised them in front of its President, Laguna Loire. Or at least, Squall didn’t think they were. He had more than enough problems to deal with on his own without borrowing Laguna’s.

SeeD’s success had its advantages. Squall understood that in order for the time loop that allowed him to defeat Ultimecia to remain stable, SeeD needed to exist in the future. Without SeeD standing against Ultimecia in the future, buying time for Squall to travel from the past, then Ultimecia would succeed and all time would be reduced to a singularity. While Squall disliked the work involved in keeping SeeD financially viable, the threat to all existence meant that he put his best effort into promoting SeeD. It helped that people knew that SeeD had been the one to stop the Calamity from the Future, as Ultimecia was being called.

The first problem with success was that with success came an increase of requests for pro bono assistance. Squall hated these requests, as a rule, because they came with expectations that he should help, and that made him feel obligated and trapped. Most requests he could reject with a clean conscience, as they were not within SeeD’s skill set. It seemed that people had forgotten that SeeD was a mercenary operation with primary military expertise. Let others, with training and experience in building hospitals, build hospitals. It was a better use of everyone’s time.

The second problem with success was that when there was a pro bono request that Squall desperately did want to fill, it wouldn’t be appropriate.

Today, as he had entered the bar of the Galbadia Hotel in Deling City, he had received one of the second type. The soldier on the other hand had, in effect, requested that Cloud rescue Cloud Strife: mercenary, amnesiac, and lover of SeeD’s Commander.

Cloud had gone several weeks ago to rejoin the Children of Hyne and Squall had only received terse updates since. That might be because Squall only sent terse updates himself. He was a reluctant letter writer, and more so when he could not be sure how many hands his messages would go through before they reached their final destination. Seifer, the founder of the Children of Hyne, knew how to establish secure lines of communication; the question was whether he had bothered. As such, Squall had gone on with his duties as Commander.

Such duties were why he was in Deling City. SeeD’s ultimate role was to protect the world from sorceresses. Squall’s role was to protect Sorceress Rinoa from the world. It didn’t involve a lot of work. Rinoa remained passionate about liberating Timber, but was now secure in her power as a Sorceress, and content with her now platonic relationship with Squall.

Squall had heard that she was in Deling City and had requested they catch up. It was as he went to meet her at the Galbadia Hotel that Squall had received the message that Cloud needed a rescue. It wasn’t how Squall had hoped to hear about Cloud again. It was frustrating.

No. If Squall was honest with himself, it was distressing.

Rinoa had brought him up to her room at the hotel on seeing him, sat down on the bed and waited for him to marshall his thoughts. He wished that there had been a lot to marshall, if only to justify the amount of time he had spent trying to wrestle the conflict into submission. He wanted to go help Cloud, but if SeeD helped with this one, they’d have to help with them all.

“Squall,” Rinoa said, waving her hand in front of his face. “You’re off in your own world again?”

Squall supposed that he was.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I got a message from the Children of Hyne.”

“I still think that’s a weird name,” Rinoa commented idly.

Squall’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “I didn’t know you knew of them.”

“They’re involved in Timber’s liberation. Not with the Forest Owls, but I know of them.”

“Well,” Squall said. “They’re looking for help.”

“Really?”

“They’ve found a monster nest,” Squall said.

“Okay,” Rinoa said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. “What’s the problem?”

“There’s nothing I can do.”

Rinoa frowned in surprise. “Why not? Tell me about what’s going on. What you’re thinking.”

Squall nodded. Describing the situation to Rinoa would serve to crystallize in his mind what the pertinent facts were, and help him come to an appropriately professional position. He stood at attention, spine straight, feet together, hands to his side, chin high and gaze directed just over Rinoa’s head. She quirked an eyebrow at this, but said nothing.

“The Children of Hyne are a paramilitary force, one of many that sprung up following the death of President Deling. Initially founded to protect people from monster attacks, their goal has changed over time to include the liberation of cities the Children of Hyne claim were abandoned by Galbadia to fend for themselves. Galbadia disputes this. So far neither side has engaged Garden and so we remain neutral in this dispute.”

Rinoa nodded, looking thoughtful. Squall knew that none of this was new to her, but he appreciated her listening anyway. It did actually help clarify his thinking.

“The organisation is led by Seifer Almasy. Though Almasy never finished his training with Garden, he is a well-trained soldier with experience in paramagic and the gunblade. It seems that he has found a way to channel his passion and dislike for authority into something he finds meaningful. Garden intel says that he is less volatile now than he has been in the past. He made a request for me to provide tactical support, but claimed he couldn’t pay for it..”

Squall didn’t understand what Seifer was thinking. They were not friends. They had grown up together, known one another better than anyone else, and ended up on opposite ends of gunblades more times than Squall would care to remember. Now he led Garden, and Seifer tried to find a dream to follow. There was no reason that Squall would offer to help Seifer out of the goodness of his heart.

Well, nothing except for Cloud Strife. That was a complication Squall couldn’t rationalise his way through.

“And Cloud? Where does he fit into this?”

Rinoa was always uncannily good at guessing what Squall was thinking.

“He’s a member,” Squall said, his voice level because of years of military training. “No one knows where he came from, though one theory is that he was at the point of impact for the Lunar Cry. Potentially a subject of experimentation by Sorceress Adel, which would explain the source of his powers. It’s unknown why he is involved with the Children of Hyne, though one theory is that they have paid him for his services, much as they would ours, and he went native. What is known is that he is a very capable swordsman. SeeD intel indicates that he is to be treated with caution.”

“That’s a strange way to talk about your boyfriend, Squall,” Rinoa observed. “Really, I was asking about what was going on _right now_. I know the other stuff already.”

Squall said nothing. What could he say? What did she want him to say? Her questions were a break in the comforting illusion he had spun for himself that this was a simple military matter.

“So,” Rinoa said after it was clear that Squall was not going to continue. “Seifer’s organisation is in trouble and asked for your help. You can’t send SeeD because there’s no contract, but you want to go because Cloud is there. Is that it?”

That was as accurate a summary as any, Squall supposed. He nodded curtly.

“Hm.” Rinoa hummed under her breath.Then she smiled and shook her head. “It’s simple! You don’t have to go as the _Commander_ , Squall.”

Squall frowned. “No?”

“You didn’t say they asked for SeeD’s help specifically. I’ll go,” Rinoa said. “And then you have to come with me. To watch over me, make sure I don’t go all _evil sorceress_.” She waggled her fingers playfully, eyes bright with mischief. “What do you think?”

Squall thought the plan was ridiculous.

Seifer’s request was ill-considered and it would be inappropriate for SeeD to respond, even if it was a general request for short-term aid rather than anything with more substance. Superficially, Rinoa’s plan would address the request without the obvious involvement of SeeD. After all, Rinoa Heartilly had never been a member of SeeD and Garden had been very careful to keep it that way. But Squall thought that it was unlikely that such a plan would hold up to any kind of scrutiny, let alone the kind of scrutiny SeeD allying with a quasi-terrorist organisation without a contract would bring. Even if he wanted it to be otherwise, Squall represented SeeD and Garden as a whole. The plan was wonderfully idealistic, passionate, and based on emotional choices rather than cool logic.

It was, in essence, everything that Rinoa was.

Perhaps that was why Squall found himself agreeing with it. After all, it wasn’t a request from a quasi-terrorist organisation. It was a request for Squall to help his boyfriend, who was clearly over his head. Maybe Rinoa was right and that it really was that simple.

“All right,” he said.

Rinoa laughed and shook her head. “I did not expect that to go so easily. You’ve gotten mellow.”

“…Right.”

* * *

 

The Children of Hyne had set up camp a few hours drive from from Deling City. Squall had chosen to drive, and had told Rinoa it was to make sure her father didn’t know she was leaving the city. Really, it was to give him space to not have to talk while they travelled to their destination. Past experience suggested that as a passenger, he would be expected to talk, to entertain the driver, to do anything other than be left with his own thoughts. Driving meant that he wasn’t expected to talk. He was able to concentrate on the act of driving: the feel of the stick shift in his hand as he changed gears, the snarl of the revved engine, the peculiar pull-push tension of steering a vehicle on dirt roads, the fear that he was driving _too slow_ and that Cloud had gotten himself into too much trouble for them to fix.

His concentration wasn’t as good as he would have liked it to be.

Rinoa, sensing his mood, stayed silent for the drive. He could feel her drawing magic from the earth beneath them as the car moved, junctioning it to her body as the car ground its way through the rough terrain. SeeD would have need a Guardian Force to junction paramagic to themselves. Squall had three, and he certainly couldn’t have done it while travelling in a car. Rinoa needed no Guardian Force and manipulating magic was as easy as breathing for her. She was no longer afraid of the powers her gifts gave her. She had grown into her power. She might have been frightening, if she had been anyone else.

Rinoa didn’t care about limitless power. She cared about people. She was the kind of person who would drop their plans without a moment’s thought to help a friend,

He wished he knew the words to thank her properly for it.

Instead, he drove. Drove, and tried to concentrate on what he was doing. Whatever confronted them when they arrived, he would need a clear head.

* * *

 

There was a monster carcass spread half-across the road. It was one of the largest monsters Squall had ever seen, the top of the skull resting on the road, and vegetation broken around it as if a great fight had taken place.

Squall stopped the car, and got out to have a look. The air stung his eyes; a fire was burning a short distance away, the distinctively sickly-sweet smell of cooking dead Marlboro flesh. That was to be expected; they were in Marlboro territory.

The monster was not expected. It wasn’t one he had seen before: it looked like a Marlboro in that it had many tentacles, but it was significantly larger, almost half again as big. It was a small miracle that he hadn’t hit it with the car.

He heard the slam of the passenger-side door of the car, but didn’t look up. He was hardly going to tell Rinoa to stay in the car.

As he circled the top of the head, he noticed a ring of metal on its forehead, a little like what a king or queen in a storybook might have worn. It wasn’t a crown, but Squall wasn’t quite sure what it was. Unsurprisingly, military school had not lingered long on fairy tales.

“Why is it wearing a circlet?” Rinoa asked. It was the first thing she had said since they had left. “Don’t touch it,” she added. “It’s cursed.”

Squall had had little desire to touch the circlet even before she had said that. “How do you know?”

Rinoa’s smile was bleak. “Evil sorceress magic.”

Squall didn’t ask further. Instead, he studied the monster carcass. It looked like it had been carved up with a sword. Not a gunblade; the wounds were too deep and long for that. They had been caused by a sword that was more like a slab of metal than the precise weapons that he was accustomed to calling ‘sword’, one that required supernatural strength to even lift it, let along swing it. Calling it a broadsword was selling it short.

Cloud had called it a Buster Sword, and given that he was the only person Squall had seen that was able to lift one, he could call it whatever he liked.

The blood from the monster’s wounds was tacky, still drying in the warm air. Though Squall hadn’t seen the monster type before, he had seen enough dead bodies to know that this one had been killed recently, a hour at most. He turned and scanned the vegetation crowding the edge of the road for signs of other monsters, before stepping into the side of bushes and small trees that was more broken than the other.

“This way,” he said. He didn’t look back to see if Rinoa followed him as he walked into the forest. If she did, she was almost as silent as he was. The forest itself was deathly silent. Ordinarily there would be sounds of insects and small animals, but now there was nothing. It was as if the dusk itself was holding its breath for what would happen next.

Squall told himself he was scaring himself. Dusk was merely the transition from day to night and was therefore incapable of apprehension or dread. He gripped the hilt of his gunblade with a painful grip regardless.

Twenty steps later, twenty careful, silent steps later, he heard a wet, terrible thud. A strangled cry. He could infer the action behind the thud, but he _knew_ that voice. It would take a great deal for Cloud to drop his stoic facade to even grunt at the force of a blow, let alone cry out in agony. Squall knew that, and the composure that he was hanging onto with his fingertips shredded completely. He took off at a run, uncaring of the noise he was making, unaware of whether Rinoa was behind him, whether monsters lurked in the shadows. None of that mattered. What mattered was finding out what had made Cloud cry out like that and _making it stop_.

He didn’t know what he would do if he was too late.

He heard another agonized cry, louder this time, and he spun on his heel, cutting through the forest. Branches whipped at his face, roots caught at his feet. He stumbled once, recovered his balance and kept going. His breath sawed in his chest, great gasping heaves of air, and he used his gunblade to hack into a bush blocking the only way forward. It was brutal work, as the gunblade was not designed to cut wood, but fear and determination lent Squall frantic strength. He cut his way through and ran.

There was a clearing up ahead, though Squall thought he wouldn’t find it on any map. The stench of sap, blood and entrails was enough to coat his tongue with a terrible aftertaste. The smell of death was almost impossible to describe to anyone who had never stepped foot onto a battlefield, but it was one that Squall had come to know intimately over the years. There were several monsters like the one that had been on the road, with a much larger one in the centre, wearing a crown on its head, at the back seeming directing the smaller monsters in their attacks. The corpses of many others lay rent and torn on the ground. Squall supposed that it had been the monsters’ death throes that had broken so many of the trees and bushes.

Though it could have been Cloud who had carved them down in his sword strikes. Blood streaming down one arm, he swung his Buster Sword as if it weighed nothing at all, holding the monster onslaught at bay as they surrounded him. There were dark, wet patches on his clothes that might be monster ichor or blood, or perhaps both. It didn’t seem to be slowing his swings down, though his parries were slow. Too slow.

Squall jumped into the fray,. He had caught the monsters in front of him off-guard, making it easier to carve his way to Cloud. Cloud acknowledged his progress with a nod and a smile, before parrying a tentacle aimed at Squall. Squall’s gunblade was slick with blood by the time he reached Cloud’s side, but that didn’t matter. Finally, a situation where he knew what to do.

He blocked a tentacle aimed at Cloud’s unprotected side. Cloud grunted in pain as he tried to move, to block the attack from the monster. Squall pivoted and cut the monster down. Then another. They were already weakened by Cloud’s attacks, so his strikes were a coup de grace.

Squall’s arrival meant that they started to gain ground against the monsters. The onslaught became less intense for a brief period while the monsters tried to adjust to the changing of the tide of battle. They continued to test Squall and Cloud’s defences with tentacles and acidic spitting attacks, but did not try to press their assault. Squall could have pressed the advantage, but there were too many unknown variables. It was unclear how injured Cloud was, what the monsters were weak or strong against, or where Rinoa was.

Instead, he took the opportunity to consolidate their defensive position. He parried the probing attacks from the monsters, covering Cloud’s share as well as his own. He didn’t have the attention to spare to look at him. He shouldn’t even spare the time to speak. He still asked,“Are you injured?”

“…It’s fine,” Cloud said. “Just tired.” He sounded exhausted and in pain, voice hollow and lifeless, the words slow and clumsy. They sounded like a lie.

Squall cast a Curaga spell on him regardless. Cloud made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, but Squall didn’t care. They could discuss this later.

One of the monsters seized the opportunity, lunging forward with frightening speed and struck at Squall with several of its tentacles. Squall barely got his gunblade up in time, ceding ground that he shouldn’t as he tried to hold off the attack. He stepped backward twice, and then struck back, firing the gun mechanism as he struck flesh. To the side, he could sense rather than see Cloud swinging his sword into another monster, hearing the monster squeal in protest.

The two of them fell into a pattern of trading blows against the monsters, standing shoulder to shoulder to prevent them from breaking through to the road. That hadn’t initially been Squall’s plan, but no plan survived first contact with the enemy. If the monsters were able to use the road, it would be easy for them to flood the cities. Or so Squall supposed. Monster extermination wasn’t really his forte.

Squall’s arm ached before long with the force of the swings needed to maintain the stalemate. Sweat trickled into his eyes. He and Cloud could hold the monsters at bay, but could not break through their line and reach the monster coordinating the attacks.

What they needed was a miracle.

They got one.

The air crackled. The hair on Squall’s back of his neck stood up on end. He didn’t turn, because he didn’t need to in order to understand what was coming. Thundaga was impressive when he was casting it, let alone when a sorceress was able to push it beyond human limits. “Close your eyes!” he yelled, closing his own as he did so, and throwing his arm over his face.

There was a white-hot flash of heat and light, bright enough that he could see it behind his eyelids and forearm. Squall hoped that Cloud had reacted in time. The air tasted sharp and painful, but there was no suggestion of a second lightning strike. He dropped his arm and opened now-tender eyelids, turned, and saw Rinoa drop her hand to her side. She was hovering a foot off the ground, incandescently white wings unfurled behind her.

“That should take care of the smaller monsters,” she said. She looked at Cloud and her eyes widened in horror before she flew over, fingertips already glowing with magic. “You’re about to fall over!”

Squall turned to look at Cloud. He looked awful: blond hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and blood, skin bloodless and pale, eyes unfocused. Even the glow that normally infused his eyes was dim. He stumbled, and Rinoa caught him. She staggered under his weight, before going to the ground in a controlled collapse.

Squall’s heart clenched. He very nearly had been too late. He could still be too late.

He took a breath.

The mission parameter was now to take down the remaining monster as quickly as possible, the one wearing the crown. He would only have one opportunity, or risk failing the operation.

He cast Aura on himself, the only one he had on him. Time slowed. An hour could now fit into the gap between each of his heartbeats. The handle of his gunblade rested easily in his hand, the length of the sword light as air and an extension of his arm. The aches and pains of battle were still present, but less important, things easily ignored. In this state, the monster’s movements were easy to predict, and when an opening presented itself, Squall struck.

One. Two. Three. Four. Squall’s movements were too fast for the monster to see, let alone respond to.

Five. Six. Seven. Eight. The monster’s tentacles fell under each strike, allowing Squall to carve his way to what he thought was the monster’s brain. To the right of him there was a familiar light; Rinoa must be casting a healing spell.

Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. The monster’s blood burned as it struck the exposed skin on Squall’s face.

Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.

Few monsters could stand up to Squall’s Lion Heart. This one was no exception. It fell to the ground, Squall’s gunblade still cleaving its skull in two, and twitched in its death throws.

Squall panted over the monster’s corpse, placing one foot against the monster’s skull and pulling his sword out. The movement cause brain matter to splatter against a nearby tree as well as on Squall himself. This kind of thing was why their clothes were designed to be resistant to stains. Squall used his glove to scrape away the monster ichor on his face and neck, before wiping his glove on his leather pants.

The crown fell to the ground with a hollow thud.

Despite his perceptions returning to normal, he didn’t want to look at Rinoa or Cloud just yet. All he could think of was _too late, too late, you could have lost him, too late too late too late!_

There was a soft touch on his arm. Squall jerked his head up.

Rinoa looked grave and serious. “I’m done,” she said. “I’ll leave you two alone a minute.” As she walked past Squall she added quietly, “I’ve healed his wounds, but he wanted to argue with me about me healing him. He does know I have plenty of healing spells, right?”

Once Rinoa was out of earshot, Squall scowled down at Cloud. He folded his arms. “Why did you argue with Rinoa about healing you?”

Squall shook his head in disbelief. “…No,” he said finally. There was so much more he could have said, but what was the point? Why waste his words? Cloud didn’t need advice, and even if he did Squall wouldn’t know how to give it to him. He shook his head. “There wasn’t. It was all for you.”

“The fight’s not over,” Cloud said.

“It’s over for you,” Squall replied. “I’m here to extract you, and that’s what I’m going to do. We’ll get someone else to deal with the cleanup.”

“A mission, huh?” Cloud sounded amused for reasons that were beyond Squall. “I’ve been worse.” He didn’t resist as Squall pulled him to his feet, though he stumbled woozily before steadying himself. Rinoa’s healing magic had that effect on people: it could heal injuries that ordinarily would kill, but it would leave you light headed and dizzy afterward. The only cure was to walk around and feel the steadiness of the ground under your feet.

Squall let Cloud lean against him as they walked.

“How did you know I was here?” Cloud asked.

“Seifer asked for help.”

“You _know_ him?”

“We grew up in Balamb Garden together.” It didn’t go anywhere near describing the amount of history that Squall and Seifer had, but Squall didn’t think that Cloud wanted to hear old history. “Where’s your camp?”

“A couple of miles up the road,” Cloud said. His body was heavy against Squall’s shoulder and hip, his head resting against Squall’s other shoulder. “You’ll see the smoke. We burn the bodies. Seifer’s idea.”

Squall snorted. “Makes sense.” He kept to himself the thought that Seifer probably also liked having a large bonfire, especially one that he probably lit himself with magic.

“About before …” Cloud said. “Thanks. I was out of my league.”

“I’m relieved I was in time,” Squall said. It wasn’t quite what he had wanted to say. He had wanted to say that he couldn’t have imagined anything worse than being too late. He had wanted to say that he loved him, even when he was being ridiculous. He wanted to say that Cloud _mattered_ , in a way that frightened him, because he didn’t understand what he was meant to do about it.

He didn’t say any of it, but Cloud seemed to understand what he meant anyway. He nodded. “Nick of time,” he agreed. “Do you get paid extra when you pull that off?”

“…Maybe,” Squall said. “It depends on the client and how much they appreciate it.”

Cloud snorted. “Sure,” he said. “I’m sure they do.”

Squall shook his head. He hadn't intended for his words to come out like that, but at least Cloud wasn't offended by it.

They said nothing more on the remainder of the walk back, though most of that was due to fatigue. Cloud leaned more on Squall, until finally Squall was the only thing keeping him upright. His head lolled on his neck.

“Next time ask for help sooner,” Squall muttered, once he was sure that Cloud couldn’t hear. “I don’t want to hear about it from Seifer. I want to hear about it from you.”

“I will.” It was muttered into Squall’s collarbone, but it made his heart skip a beat regardless. He wasn’t sure why: was it nerves? Anxiety? Pleasure? One day he supposed he would understand himself. It seemed like that would always be something of a work in progress.

Maybe once he understood himself, Squall would be able to understand Cloud. He loved Cloud, but sometimes he didn’t understand why he did the things he did. He didn’t understand why Cloud wouldn’t let Rinoa heal him and insisted that everyone else go first. He didn’t understand why Cloud had joined the Children of Hyne, and what he fought for. What was still very frightening to him was that Squall wanted to understand Cloud. He didn't think he could have done that five years ago.

Rinoa was waiting for them by the car, the backseat door closest to them already open. Squall wasn’t sure why she was smiling as she came over to help him bring Cloud to the car.

“He was really worried about you,” she said as they bundled Cloud into the backseat. He mumbled under his breath, though it was nothing coherent. Rinoa folded her duster up and rested it between the window and Cloud’s face, seeming not to care about the dirt and blood.

“He should have worried about himself,” Squall said, words ice-cool. Calm and rational. The icy SeeD Commander, rather than the frightened man who had torn into the bush following a scream.

“It’s okay to be worried about him too,” she replied. “That’s normal. Anyone would have been worried.”

“Hm,” Squall said. “It’s getting dark.”

Rinoa’s expression was skeptical, but she climbed into the passenger seat. Squall settled into the driver’s seat, the seat very welcome after the aches and pains of battle. He reached for the keys for the car, only to have Rinoa catch his hand in hers. He scowled at her. What was she doing?

“You really care about him,” she observed, looking at his face. It felt like she was looking through his face into his soul, delving into it for the words he still could not say.

“…Yeah,” Squall said. “I do.”

“That doesn’t sound very confident,” Rinoa said, laughing. “Shouldn’t you know by now?”

Squall turned the car ignition on, and started the engine.

“I guess that’s a yes in Squall-speak,” Rinoa said. She looked over her shoulder at Cloud’s sleeping form in the back seat. “You know, I’ve been thinking. I should really investigate these Children of Hyne.”

“You know I’ll have to come too,” Squall pointed out.

“Yes, you will,” Rinoa said.

Squall had to admit, the idea did sound appealing. He had enough leave saved up with Garden that he could take a leave of absence, and Xu was perfectly capable of running Garden in his absence. Fighting together had reminded Squall that he enjoyed the thrill of battle, especially with a partner that complemented you so neatly by your side, or even sparring against a partner who knew your moves as well as you did yourself. It also meant that Squall wouldn’t have to wait weeks to kiss his lover.

If it wasn’t for the fact that he’d have to deal with Seifer’s ego, Rinoa’s idea would be perfect. Still, it was pretty close.

“I’ll put in for a leave of absence,” he promised, as they drove away.


End file.
